


Why Couldn't I

by shakespearespaz



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Internal Monologue, Multi, Unrequited Love, of the threesome variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespearespaz/pseuds/shakespearespaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of context voyeuristic Bass internal monologue piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Couldn't I

Bass knew jealousy when it clenched. Still didn’t mean he knew who.

_She_ had Miles on his knees, begging forgiveness. He could tell from the way he left no space between him and her, but shifted without second thought every time she did. His eagerness to please was sickening. Bass didn’t want to imagine the two curled like cats, Miles enfolding his arms around her, cradling golden curls and clutching her figure like it might wiggle away without warning. Who would then wrap her calloused fingers around his worn heart and squeeze it awake? And yet he saw them clear as day huddled together, pathetic and safe.

He wanted to be between them, beside them, _be_ them.

Did Miles help her through the moments of halting terror in nights darker than dark was meant to be? Bass knew, knew that Rachel would writhe awake in fear. He’d heard the tears, realized he’d won the war long before she ceded the siege. The air here was quiet, a peaceable quiet not too close to silent. He’d never found peace in a lover’s embrace.

Maybe all he needed was Miles’.

How did _he_ live with himself? Was Rachel’s forgiveness that potent? He watched her stop pretending as he melted into her arms, limbs twisting together. Maybe it was Rachel he needed and her pity and love and closed eyes damp against his forehead. No one cried for _him._

No one touched him.

Only if he paid or ordered or forced it. He imagined pressing against Rachel, as she sneered and shifted and squirmed and tried to gut him with scissors. Denial was where he overestimated himself. He kept her because who else did he have? He tried to ignore her flinch when he captured a silky strand between his fingers, because it reminded him of Ben and Rachel and Miles with smelly takeout and mismatched silverware on the scratchy carpet of the newlywed’s apartment and a moment so far from this one.

Miles was never afraid to smack him or tease him or kick his ass and they were _brothers_ but now the dark head lay heavy against her sweaty skin and he wanted to touch them, rip them apart before he goes mad so they can feel the sheer agony of alone.

But they’ve paid their dues, as Rachel finds his lips and he loses track of pale skin and hair and limbs from this distance.

Separate. Two independents allied like teenagers with a crush and hormones. He had kept them separate, out of loss, love or some other stupid tagline. Did they miss him? He’d smeared Rachel’s blood across his knuckles because he’d been told passion without mercy.

He expected to feel pride at that, but nothing was easier.  


End file.
